Day Six

Day six.
Six. As in, a week. A whole

freaking week since I sat a

breath away from you at The West.

A breathless distance, my soul

both petrified in fear and

overwhelming hurt as well as

clinging to yours with as strong

a pull as ever. Your magnet,

remember? Or did you forget... or

not even care anymore to think

about. Well, I think about it. I

feel it still, when apparently

you don't. I feel it deeply.
A broken magnet, now. Always

broken, I guess. That's all I

ever am. It's like the

disentigration of the Naval

Academy dream literally altered

my chemical makeup so that now,

success is impossible. Broken.
Even a small week has an effect.

Did you know? Denial, utter

shock, the blur, the adrenaline,

the physical overload, the

spiritual vaccuum, the slow

motion.... numb. I noticed I stop

thinking, "if he doesn't love me

anymore" to "because he doesn't

love me anymore." And from "if he

ever comes back," to "because

he's never going to come back."

From, "like it will be again," to

"like it used to be." It wasn't

even a choice. I just woke up and

drove out of town and started

teaching and before I knew it, I

was talking to my kids about

Patrick and about the guy who

bought him for me, the guy who

loved me, the guy who left and is

gone. Gone, as in not coming

back; rather than gone as in

temporarily absent. My kids were

so kind. They loved Patrick. One

of the quiet little boys, Brett,

wrote a poem about Patrick. It

made me smile. At least someone

cares.
I didn't do so great on my

evaluation by Dr. Babuschak. I

didn't realize I needed to have a

lesson plan filled out for him to

grade. I had my working lesson

plan, spread out over the weeks

I've been teachign and the

remaining weeks, filled with

scribbles and scrawled notes,

aflutter with a rainbow of

stickynotes. He wasn't impressed

and went woefully to the back of

the room, shaking his head and

jotted oh-so-important things on

his paper. At least he said he

enjoyed the lesson, said it was

very unusual to have a class

respond so much, especially guys

to an English class, let alone a

writing class, and today we were

doing poetry to boot. I just

shrugged. They are good kids, I

said. Because it's true.
Eden's birthday is April 6th.

She'll be 14. I need to get her a

gift. I never see anyone else

from the MacIntosh household.
I was so tired, my legs trembled

by second hour. So tired of

standing, being in charge, doing

all the talking. I may be a good

public speaker and I may not be

afraid of crowds and I may have a

gift to teach... whatever.... I

don't have the endurance for

being the main act day after day,

hour after hour nonstop. I get

thirsty and nervous and so, so

tired.
Duke.
I got to focus on him a little

during seatwork time. He plays

guitar, bass, piano. Not any band

instruments. Here are some of his

poems, because I'm sure you're

sick of reading my own words by

now.
This is an acrostic poem.

GUITAR
Gently hand crafted
Uses you
In
The
Art of playing and
Reading music

These are ABC poems.

An American
Boy
Cowardly
Dances to the
Extravagent song in the key of
F

I told him a little about my

pitiful piano skills, about my

violin teacher quitting on me

because she said I was a waste of

her time.

At the end of class, Duke raised

his hand and said he wanted to

read a poem he'd been working on

while zoning out on my lecture on

connotation/denotation.

It was another ABC.

Amazingly, she
Blossoms, she
Certainly loves
Dogs, she
Engcourages your
Feelings
Greatly with
Happiness and
Intimate
Joy,
Kindly
Loves,
Miss
Noelle
O'Brien is the best
Person.

I about bawled in class, in front

of 35 kids. I had to make it not

a big deal. It was our secret,

his and mine. I've got your back,

Duke.

Sandy Chambers, my teacher, told

me that Duke is restless because

he lives so far away that he can

never socialize with his

classmates, have them over, etc.

His parents are pulling him at

the end of the year and putting

him in a public school closer so

that he can start having

friendships. I felt this huge

sadness, this despair, that I

will never see him again and have

no way to ever contact him. I

wish I could know him longer. I

don't want him to walk out of my

life. I shouldn't have gotten

attached. Why did I let myself do

it? I don't know why.
Broken, that's why.
Broken.

First day of the new celebration.

C2, 2013. Hello, pasta. Rustic

Penne Bolognese. Tortellini

Alfredo. Buttered Noodles. Pesto

Cavascchati. I was on line all

night, and it was rough. So much

to do, and not enough time. 45

minutes in the freezer just

pulling pastas to thaw for the

next day and daydotting them and

junk.
Kendon took Bro. Rick out to

lunch today to the Charleston's

Steakhouse, so Gabby drove me to

work. She is tired and sick. It

seems like everyone is sick, and

I haven't even had a sniffle. I

guess I should thank God, but all

I feel is the irony. Of course I

should be healthy now that it

benefits no one but me.

Steven called, and Nina. I can't

figure out what is bugging him,

but he is so down. I wish I could

give him a hug. He sent me a box

in the mail. Just little things I

miss from home.
Ukraine.
I want to go back. It's been on

my mind since you left me, the

day you asked me to pray about

going to Ukraine to help my

parents. Now going back isn't an

option for me, because it is what

you always pushed. "I want you to

be at home," you would say. I

never understood it. Maybe even

way back then, it was your way of

saying that you didn't want me.

You didn't want to be responsible

for me. I was blind, I guess.

Mary and I talked dogs. I found a

canine protection training

academy here in town. I don't

know how much it costs, but they

train your dog to protect your

person if you ever feel

threatened. I am so in. That's

exactly why I'm getting a

malamute when I graduate. Big,

half wolf, brave. The other

reason... so I can feel someone

love me again, loyally.

Unconditionally. Without reserve.

Without perameters. No matter

what kind of day I've had. No

arguments, not mind games, no

crap. Someone to cuddle, to hold

when I cry to sleep. The nice

thing about Mary's house is that

she's always had big dogs that

lived indoors, and she's all for

me getting a malamute. That's a

blessing.

Two more days till dorm day.

Remember last semester? Of course

you do. But of course you don't

think about it. The kisses.. the

warmth... falling asleep...

sweet, amazing slumber snuggled

next to you. I was such a fool.

Kari returned my pass and told me

to come in. Like when? I'm only

on campus for 30 minutes max and

it's when she's off at lunch. I

got four hours this week. Not

being in devos (I fell asleep)

and not having my Bible in devos

(I had just walked in from work).

Thanks, jerks. I feel like Duke.

I want to leave this place.

I saw you today.
Wearing that stupid tan suit.
I didn't mean to, for once.

Checked to see if I got my pass

back, and was walking to my dorm

when Melissa caught me just as I

was trying to escape. It was

awkward, standing there trying to

have a conversation when my head

was screaming at her to shut up

so I could go. It was nice to

know that she cares in her own

way. Of course, since mom and dad

stayed with them and left them a

more than generous thank you tip.

Then you walked in. Quick. Alone.

Took one look at me and moved

even quicker.
Did you change your number yet?

my head wanted me to call after

you. The taunt wouldn't do any

good. What's the point of

inflicting you just because you

take so much pleasure in

inflicting me? It might be the

natural instinct, to retaliate,

but I am old enough and tired

enough to know it won't do any

good. Nothing will do any good.

Nothing.
Broken, broken, broken.
Closed. Done. Goodby, Noelle.
I don't love you anymore.
Never will.
I froze as you walked by, then

tried my hardest to focus on what

Melissa was saying. Work..

summer.. graduation... blah,

blah... I couldn't follow.
I didn't feel the usual rush of

adrenaline, my heart thudding and

lurching in my chest, my breath

catching, my throat constricting.
My eyes teared up, but they

didn't cry. I felt.........

despair. Defeat. This cold, dead

weight lump in my belly.
Levi, walking by.
Levi, not looking at me.
levi, not stopping.
Levi, not talking.
Levi, so unpenetratable.

At least you were alone, like on

Sunday. I feel slightly better,

because it is far more

excruciating when you are with a

big group of your jerk friends.
Have you discovered, again, that

they are not true friends? What

did they do to you this time? Or

maybe it's because they all have

girlfriends and you're too much a

coward to work at having one

yourself. I don't know.
Or I suppose it could be because

you are after some other girl. Is

that who you were glued to your

phone with in church? Is that who

you were heading to so fast?

And for some reason, as I come

home and furiously clean my room

and try to brace myself for

another everlasting day.....
I feel nothing.
Nothing but desapir.